


The Craftsman's Son

by ThirthFloor



Series: Drabbles from the Fates List [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I feel like he and Zagreus would be friends, Icarus is a sad shade, Icarus is my son and I must protect him, Inspired by The Fall of Icarus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), No Beta we die like Zagreus (again), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, seriously he should have been in the game my heart is broken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirthFloor/pseuds/ThirthFloor
Summary: In Zagreus' many escape attempts, he runs into a mournful Shade who knows a thing or two of failed escape attempts.Icarus wanders alone through the levels of the Underworld, too afraid to face his father, even if the man weren't cursed to never see his son again.Zagreus once again tries to pull some strings with his father's contracts.
Relationships: Will Add Relationship Tags Later
Series: Drabbles from the Fates List [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077338
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

The chambers in which Daedalus forgot his tools were always empty of genuine company when Zagreus arrived – no sign of the master architect before nor following confrontation with any shades commanded to cease the Prince’s forward venture.

Emptier still, were the chambers before much more threatening foes, the terror at the brink of every region. Zagreus had been hoping for Charon’s shop, but instead heard over the bubbling lava of Asphodel the familiar chime of a blessing. Even from a shade, and one who was so meticulous in life now cursed to be somewhat forgetful with his things, the improvements granted by Daedalus’ craft were nothing short of miracles.

Rounding the corner and bounding up the few stairs into that waiting chamber, what Zagreus did not intend to see was a figure already at the tool itself, examining the binding at its handle with such familiarity that the Prince would take to dismiss.

Zagreus slowed his fiery pace and entered the room calmly, though his heart pounded in wary anticipation. “There is usually no one to greet me at these things, mate. I do hope you’re not some new, frightening instillation sent by my father to keep me from getting to that hammer.”

The shade looked up then, wide eyes a dark brown that would be welcoming if not for the hollow expression they took on. The shade was that of a young man, tousled brown locks curling about his ears and in every form of heedless unkempt. The shoulder of his chiton was clasped with one firm buckle, leaving much of his torso bare, as bare as his feet on the thankfully cool stones. Not that shades could feel much, that were, but Zagreus still cringed to think of this young man wandering about the flaming coals with nothing but the skin of his toes as a barrier.

The shade spoke then, and his voice was the deep timbre of a young man past adolescence – yet it carried a wispy, wistful nature of sorrow to soften it. Zagreus’ eyes came back to his face, met those eyes. “No, it would do me no good to believe I could cause you trouble. Just passing through at the same time, so it seems. Would you… like me to fix up that blade for you?”

He gestured toward Stygius, held firmly in the Prince’s grasp, and the creak of wood and leather, the rustle of feathers suddenly drew Zagreus’ focus away from his face and now to the tattered, scorched skeleton of wings fastened to the shade’s arms. The leather straps of harness bound to his shoulders and over his pectorals was clasped with welded metal, but the wood and wax of those wings melted in bubbled white scarring – melted, combined with the skin of his muscled arms and marred back.

“You’re Icarus,” Zagreus blurted out, and instantly regretted the insensitivity. He had heard of the tragedy of Daedelus’ son, heard how the father mourned in sorrow just as much as his anger. Zagreus did not expect to meet the boy himself at all, figured he had been cast into one of the lesser shades wandering Tartarus for some crime of little achievement.

Icarus huffed a soft, bitter laugh, lips curling into a delicate smile. “I am. Does that surprise you? Son of the great Daedalus wandering about, picking up his father’s forgotten tools instead of working at his side.”

Zagreus stepped forward, comfortable now in the knowledge that he would be done no harm, but guilty curiosity swept over him in this unfortunate legend’s presence. “Not really, just… Well, I’ve never seen your father about these parts either. Always seem to miss him, I usually find his hammers to fix up my own weapons and be on my way.”

“Well, leave that to me, then. You look like you could take a rest.”

Zagreus nodded and handed Stygius over, watching as Icarus examined the blade delicately, the muscles of his tattered arms shifting as he held and hefted the blade to check for imperfections. “This will be better done by the hands of an apprentice craftsman himself, no doubt. Thanks, mate. Really.”

“It’s my pleasure, good Prince. Wouldn’t do well for you to be running forward complacent in this blade’s integrity. I’ll have it fixed up in no time.”

Icarus got to work. Zagreus watched, the clanging of metal ringing in his ears, reverberating off the cavernous chamber, the stalactites above and the stone tiled floors, the rock walls surrounding them. Despite the state of his body, Icarus worked quickly, much more surely with the tool and the blade than Zagreus had in his own attempts to improve his weapon. Being in the Underworld alleviated him of the hurts of mortals, and while the lingering scars remained, his movement was uninhibited by anything more than the remaining bulk of the wings.

“Have you seen your father about, Icarus? One day – or, er, night – I’d like to thank him for his skill. Even with only one of his tools and little crafting knowledge, I can usually make something of my weapons.”

Icarus stiffened slightly for a moment, his smooth motions interrupted with a pause. Zagreus cringed, knowing immediately he had broached an uncomfortable topic. Much like when he pestered Eurydice about Orpheus and she grew heated, Zagreus felt a guilt bloom from that curiosity that still did little to quench it.

“I have not,” Icarus replied sorrowfully. “Part of my father’s sentence here is to work without furthering his legacy. And that means I will never complete my apprenticeship.”

The Prince’s brow furrowed, laurel sizzling. “But thousands of mortals read his writings, follow his plans and skills up on the surface, surely that accounts for something? Daedalus’ legacy is everywhere, even in the walls of my father’s house. How does that make sense to be his curse?”

Icarus shrugged and held up the hammer. “He’s not the man he once was. There are flaws in even the finest of his architecture, now. And the other humans cannot copy exactly what his intentions were.”

“Oh. I… think I see. Still though, surely you’re bound to run into him one time or another, picking up after him like this.”

Icarus frowned again. He resumed the work on Stygius, nearing the end of his repairs and brow furrowed in a thoughtful brood. “Forgive my bluntness, Prince, but I don’t think I could face my father even if given the chance. Here is your blade, how does it feel?” He dropped the hammer handle-first into a slim loop on his belt, the weight tugging the leather down just slightly, but seeming at home tucked against the apprentice’s side.

Zagreus acknowledged the subtle suggestion to change topics, and took Stygius. It felt lighter, somehow, and cleaner. He spun it experimentally a few times, rolling his wrist to follow the motion. It felt lighter, but more lethal. He wondered if it would be possible to pierce armor, now. “Razor sharp.”

Icarus smiled softly, a pitiful twitch of the expression registering on his sad face. “It is. Do be careful, good Prince. I… I know you are determined in your path, so I will not tell you to turn back. But do not underestimate your foes. No amount of confidence makes you impervious to error.”

“I will be careful, thank you, mate. Where will you be next?”

“Somewhere my father had been before, most likely. I hope we do not meet too often, for your success in escaping this place. I know a thing or two of failed escapes.” Icarus looked down, once again exhaling that brief huff as if he had said something painfully ironic; in all fairness, he had. But Zagreus knew it not his place to take any humor in this shade’s cruel fate.

Zagreus nodded, and rest Stygius on his shoulder, walking ahead while waving back. “Until next time then, Icarus. I wish you well in the meantime.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus meets Icarus for the second time, in the cozy home of Eurydice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised at the warm reception this is getting, thank you guys so much!!!!! ;n; you have given me the will to continue!!

Eurydice’s melodic voice did not echo throughout the cavern when Zagreus arrived at her home, an odd occurrence that put the Prince on edge. His pulse sped up with the bubbling pops of lava flooding his hearing, senses heightened warily upon approaching the quiet abode. It was only when he pressed his ear to the enchantedly solid door that he heard light voices inside. Zagreus let out a sigh.

She was alright then. But, just to be sure, and as a courtesy, of course, Zagreus knocked before entering. “Lady Eurydice? I hope this isn’t a bad time…”

“Oh no, come right on in, hon. My, you look starved! Sit down before you keel over, will you?” The beautiful nymph stood at the fireplace, lazily stirring a spoon in her cauldron. Her wrist rotated in calming, rhythmic patterns – clockwise, counterclockwise, and back again. Zagreus felt his stomach growling the moment he laid eyes on the steam rising from that pot.

Eurydice smiled widely, as if she could hear his hunger – _could she?_ – and she hung the ladle from a hook before crossing the small room to fetch a bowl from the cupboard. “Porridge, as usual, then? You’re lucky darling Icarus stopped by, it’s his favorite, so it’s fresh and hot.”

Only now did Zagreus see the quiet shade, sitting on Eurydice’s bed with his legs crossed beneath him. Cradling a cup of porridge in slender, scarred hands, Icarus smiled wanly at their new company. “Pleasure to see you doing well, good Prince. How goes this try?”

“Quite well, actually, although I do feel lucky to have stumbled upon Lady Eurydice’s home… I can always use a rest.” Zagreus adjusted his posture, stretching out a painful crick in his shoulder and propping Stygius against the cabinet to his back. A strained sigh left his lips as he sat back in his chair.

“You certainly look it. Still equipped with that blade. I’ve heard you have others. Varatha, the Eternal Spear is one of them, yes?” Icarus did not take that solemn gaze off Zagreus as he ate a spoonful of porridge, a curiosity sparking there that had not been seen before in those tired eyes.

“Yes, it was my father’s, but I managed to acquire it, er… somehow. Oh – thank you, Lady Eurydice.” The steaming bowl set before him only set to make his stomach rumble more, and Zagreus tried his best to mind his manners as he shoveled the revitalizing meal down. Strength flooded back to his veins with each hearty bite.

“Enough with the jock talk, just weapons and tools and all that with the _both_ of you, I swear.” Eurydice chuckled warmly despite her chastising, a happy, motherly glint in her eye as she watched the two enjoy their dishes. “How many times have you two run into each other out there?”

“Just once,” Icarus replied lightly. He looked down, as if it was an admittance of something more than a number of encounters.

Eurydice pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. “You should try not to wander as much then, darling. Stay closer to me, yeah?”

“I am afraid I cannot help it, every time I leave I am drawn after father… even when I wish to return. I have to follow.”

Zagreus regarded the exchange, feeling a tug in his chest at the hurt expression on Icarus’ already melancholy features. Wandering after Daedalus then, it seemed – abiding by his father’s curse to be so close to his son and yet fail him, miss him still. And Icarus, always two steps behind, unable to obey his father’s wishes for all eternity. A cycle of disappointment and guilt, fed by both father and son.

Well, at least Zagreus could relate to that.

“Icarus,” Zagreus spoke slowly, unsure if he were even _welcome_ to enter this topic of conversation, “if there was… a way that I could talk to my father, perhaps get a contract altered… Would you prefer to reunite with your father, or simply cut ties? Be free to do as you wish, like Eurydice here?”

Icarus blinked, brown eyes startled like a fawn’s at the question. “I do not believe in such a possibility, good Prince, so I have not considered it.”

“But, merely hypothetically? What would you choose?” Zagreus sat forward now.

The shade’s wide glance turned up towards Eurydice, who looked just as stunned – although on her sharp and even features, this translated to merely a widening of the eyes and a raise of a brow. Then he looked down, tapping fingers soundlessly on the cup in his hands. The slightest rustle of broken feathers accompanied the movement, barely audible over the comforting crackle of the hearth.

“I would like to do as I wish. With that, if I wished it, I could do anything – surpass even father’s curse, if only once, to see him and… and apologize. Then I could be on my own, and the consequences of my actions would be only my own. I don’t want burden him any longer.” The bob of his throat was like a condemnation as Icarus closed his eyes, nodding, resigned. “That would be my wish.”

“Why are you asking questions like this, hon? Is there really a way you could do that for him?” Eurydice uncrossed her arms and sat on the bed beside the fallen unfortunate, placing her hand delicately on his lower back. Burned shoulders hunched forward further at the gentle contact, and she began rubbing light circles.

“I don’t know,” Zagreus confessed. He finished his porridge, suddenly feeling as though he had overstayed his invite. “But I just – I just thought I would offer. At this rate, I haven’t a clue what could happen next, or what opportunities could come from all this. I want to know what favors I can do for the people who helped me.”

“That’s very kind of you. But be wary of making promises you cannot keep, alright? Need anything else before you go? I really should invest in some of those to-go containers.”

“Nothing more, thank you, Lady Eurydice. And I’ll… see you around, Icarus, mate.” Zagreus hoped he would, valuing the company of the shy, complicated shade; but he suddenly considered, giving what conversation he had witnessed, if that was in the boy’s best interests. Zagreus certainly did not want to add to whatever responsibility Icarus already claimed for his own shoulders.

“See you, good Prince. And – thank you, for offering your help.” Icarus tried his best to smile, but something haunted too close beneath those warm brown irises. To spare the awkwardness, he added timidly, “Bring by Varatha next time, would you? If it is not out of your way. I would like to see it for myself…”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. Thanks for the company. I’ll probably be back.”

“Best of luck to you.”

“Till later, hon.”

Zagreus nodded and rolled his shoulders, hopping from the ledge of Eurydice’s loft to the rough asphalt of Asphodel’s floor. His feet steamed against the stone, but he felt none of it, and waved one last time before stepping onto the rickety raft.

It seemed there was still more yet to do, going forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Follow me on social media! Tumblr @ziggyzagreus ; Twitter @thirthfloor! 
> 
> I update this story on Tumblr too, and answer questions and offer exclusive details too!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Icarus attempts to stop Zagreus.

“My Prince, forgive my brash council but I must ask you to turn back.”

Icarus spoke sternly, a newfound strength to the ordinarily wispy nature of his voice. The hammer of Daedalus remained securely on his belt, unmoved and stowed away before Zagreus had taken a mere step into the room. The Prince was battered, bruised, bloody, and Varatha was dulled from what it had been through already. Once again, he arrived in the last chamber before the Lernaean Hydra, but it had been his worst attempt in a long while. Some time had passed since Zagreus last equipped the Eternal Spear, but it had been requested. And he had given his word, after all.

Despite all that, this obstacle was unexpected. Exhausted, Zagreus coughed and doubled over, catching his haggard breath before straightening to face the command. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Icarus, mate.”

“You will not make it past the next chamber anyways. Turning back could spare you a painful death.” Icarus’ posture shifted with the conviction of his words, wood and wax and leather creaking as a testament to his ethos. Zagreus’ eyes lingered on the sear of the clasps into his skin and felt sorry.

But this… this had to be some sort of test, right? There was no way that he was going to turn back, let alone at the word of someone as soft-spoken as Icarus. Yes, the shade surely had experience with being too confident; but surely in turn, he understood _why_ Zagreus was so desperate to escape, why he _needed_ to escape. And atop that, Zagreus had nothing but time to lose – no death, painful as it may be, was permanent to the Prince. So, surely this had to be a test. Or a joke.

Zagreus leaned on Varatha and straightened even more, taking a breath to appear stronger than he felt. “Death is of no consequence to me, I thought we’d been over that by now. I’m lucky enough to have more than one shot.”

“But there is a cost, though.” Icarus stepped closer still, the longer wing tip that remained dragging on the ground with a gritty scrape. “You’re tired. You do not know when your will to press on will break. I would not risk the discouragement.”

“Well, I’m not you.” Frustration and impatience took hold, mixed with the pulsing aggression of Ares underneath his skin. Zagreus did not mean to snap, and blinked in vague shock at the way his tone echoed around the chamber. But, at the same time… The way Icarus’ expression twitched in that same surprise struck inspiration deep in his core. Something beat.

Zagreus _was_ going on ahead. He would slay the Hydra and forge his path through Elysium. He would conquer the Champions, move on to navigate the Satyr Tunnels, and at last – at last, he would defeat even his father. He _would_ reach his mother.

And the _last_ person that could possibly stop him was this quiet, timid, lurking shade – this shade whose _own_ mistakes led to his _own_ demise. No, Zagreus had planned his escape. He knew very well the bounds of his ability, his body and most certainly his determination; there was no question to the means he was willing to employ for merely the _chance_ of getting out. This would not deter him in the slightest.

Icarus, jaded though his expression was, still stood at the center of the chamber. He had different ideas, an attempt to remain strong despite the shock of the Prince’s attitude. “My father warned me against complacency and hubris. But they are one in the same. Fly too low, and you get the ocean. Fly too high and you get the sun. But I- ” He cut off there, voice quivering, and swallowed before continuing, one scarred hand pointing at the Prince’s bloodied chest. “I flew too high, got the sun and _then_ fell down to the sea. Arrogance will be your downfall, good Prince, all I’m asking is that you _rest_ and _try again_.”

“Well, it’s not arrogance if I have a real reason to keep going. I’m not just flying at the sun to show off.”

Zagreus regretted it the moment the words passed his lips. Icarus recoiled, the snapping of wood and feathers following his sharp retreat a few steps from the Prince. For a moment, Zagreus feared he would stumble, but hesitated to reach out at the flare of upset anger that shown in the young man’s eyes. Icarus’ mouth hung open, a protest ready behind a gasp of needless air. Zagreus opened his mouth the same with an apology prepared.

Then Icarus gathered himself and looked down, gritting his teeth against anything and everything he wished to say. Excuses and explanations, opposition and arguments swam in those dark eyes, glistening with frustrated tears that rose to the surface. He was trying, for himself and for Zagreus… Trying fruitlessly to redeem _something_ , find a peace from that lasting shame. From his humiliating, tragic end.

It was something neither right nor fair to bring up as an insult. It was hardly a topic to be discussed at all. Zagreus’ heart twisted in guilt.

“Icarus, mate, I’m-”

“Just – let me fix that up.” He held his winged, damned arm out for Varatha, eyes still downcast. The other hand freed the craftsman’s hammer from its place on his belt. “Magnificent spear, shame you let it get beat up like that.”

Zagreus hesitated at the sudden change of topic. He wanted to apologize, to discuss what just occurred between them and make it right. But one look at Icarus deemed the conversation over.

Reluctantly, Zagreus handed over his weapon, feeling suddenly small and tired without it by his side. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, and he so very much wished then for something to lean on. His feet continued to sizzle against the scuffed rock despite any draw by the throes of exhaustion. Instead, the Prince listened to the soothing, sure sounds of the hammer clanging by the blessed metal of Varatha, strengthening it to cater the journey ahead.

Moments passed, what could have been seconds or hours, before Icarus was handing the spear back assuredly. His eyes met Zagreus’, though the expression there was guarded and unreadable.

“Good luck,” the shade spoke in a whisper.

“I’m… sorry, Icarus. That was inconsiderate, terrible, of me. I cannot thank you enough for all your help…”

“Do not apologize for speaking the truth. Just – do not prove me right. Do not give me that guilt. Get out of here, Prince.”

Zagreus sucked in a breath to argue again, but that blank look drained it right from him like a puncture. The Prince nodded with a hiss of his burning laurels and took the spear, hefting its now light weight. He moved past the shade silently, before calling over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. Please, take care, Icarus.”

And _oh_ , Icarus wished he could. He watched the Prince board the raft to carry him to the following chamber, and Icarus wished he could do as Zagreus said. Ease his worry, make him proud, even. Zagreus, his father… anyone for whom Icarus had come to care for. The young shade felt deeply as if he did not know the consequences of his own actions, nor those that someone like Zagreus’ could bring. Misguided by tales of grandeur, promises from fellow shades down here and false testaments to the gods’ imperviousness, Icarus pondered his perception of the good Prince.

It was hard to look at him. To see his success, his strength, his kindness, and _not_ be inspired. How could one gaze upon that Prince and _not_ imagine that all is possible? But that awe was what made Icarus worry. It was a charisma and persona potentially far too grandiose to maintain.

The young shade longed for Eurydice, for her motherly company and kind words. He felt a tremble begin in his fingertips. He looked around his chamber, Asphodel bubbling hot and bright and fierce.

Like that orb in the sky, like the sun – so bright and tempting and challenging. But this place, Asphodel was contained by those dark walls. Dark and choking and claustrophobic like the crashing, drowning, sucking waves of a dark sea. Icarus shook more, feathers rustling and wood creaking as he crouched to his knees. Those tears that bordered his eyes from the harsh words of the soft-spoken Prince finally spilled over, and Icarus felt so small. Small, timid, ashamed, ashamed, ashamed.

Who was he, to stop the Prince? Who was he, to offer advice on what he thought in hindsight to be right, when even that lesson learned had not been enough to reunite him with his father? What right did Icarus have to make any statement that counted? He wept on the floor, afraid and ashamed, and wished Zagreus would return and be safe. Icarus longed to find Eurydice and her little home, to feel safe. He longed, _ached_ for his father to come reclaim his hammer, so that Icarus may take a groveling moment to weep his sorries and feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Follow me on social media!! Twitter @thirthfloor ; Tumblr @ziggyzagreus !!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus takes a trip to the Administrative Chamber to check some documents, and reflects on the meaning of family along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Icarus this chapter, some more plot stuff!! Thank you all who have kept up with this fic though, it really warms my heart!!

It had gotten back to Zagreus eventually that his last altercation with Icarus had left a sour blossom on their acquaintanceship. If the absence of the timid shade was not telling enough already, Zagreus could tell for himself from the festering guilt that rose up to greet him every time he laid eyes on a lone hammer. Absent of a proper wielder, the hammers were then reduced to the effectiveness carried when the Prince made do with his meager crafting abilities.

And the cost, while not ultimately very high, had certainly begun to take a toll. Zagreus had grown pampered to the prowess his weapons carried after Icarus’ careful, gnarled hands had seen to their repairs – and this complacency was certainly something he suffered while rampaging through the chambers.

 _My father warned me against complacency and hubris._ He had said, last they met. _But they are one in the same._ Funny how that came to be true sooner than anticipated. The foolish Prince was most certainly getting his beatings handed to him in consequence for so crudely disregarding Icarus’ sound advice.

Zagreus allowed the rushing, pulsing sound of the River Styx soothe his stinging muscles for only a moment more. Rising to his feet, the plump droplets of crimson cascaded down his miraculously dry body in racing paths before meeting once more in the collective pool. Frothy little bubbles formed, boiling just slightly around Zagreus feet as he sloshed forward and found the steps into the entrance hall.

He considered Icarus a friend. So, the absence was more than just a setback on his venture to the surface. Which reminded him now, that Icarus did not even know the meaning of his journey upwards, nor how his determination stay vitalized through these constant defeats. Perhaps some clarification was in order, after all.

But not as an excuse. Zagreus would not return without a peace offering of some kind.

“Hypnos, mind if I ask you a question or two?” Not bothering to lower his voice upon waking the chthonic god, Zagreus ran a hand through his hair to brush the last of the Styx away.

“Oh, well, sure thing! No, I don’t mind at all!” Hypnos retrieved his scroll and quill from where they had drifted out of his hands upon waking and flashed a toothy grin the Prince’s way. “What can I help you with?”

“Do you happen to remember when a shade named Icarus arrived here? Son of Daedalus, big tragic ending from flying at the sun and all that… If you don’t recall, then that’s alright. It’s just that I’ve run into him a couple times out there in Asphodel and was a little curious.”

Hypnos’ eyes widened with recognition, and he clapped two slender hands to his cheeks. “Of _course,_ I remember Icarus, what a sweet kid! I felt sorry when he first showed up, with those wings dragging all heavy behind him… Wouldn’t stop crying, you know, _really_ annoyed the Boss, but I tried to get him to stop. Not befitting of a strong boy, or whatever, but what can you do! He was so polite… Embarrassed, too. I mean, what a way to go! People _still_ talk about it! Poor kid. How is he?”

“He’s… doing alright, I think.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed quietly, new guilt pinching his chest at the thought of Icarus weeping before Hades after just disappointing his _own_ father… Yikes. The Prince surely had not helped with that confidence on their last meeting. “I often find him at Eurydice’s place, she has that nice little house, you know. Or he’s with Daedalus’ forgotten tools. We got along before just recently. I’m afraid I may have said some things to upset him.”

“Aw, really? I suppose that can happen, people say things they regret all the time! I certainly never hear the end of it, _yeesh_ , you don’t even want to know some of the things these shades go on about.” When a few of the queued specters turned their way, disgruntled, Hypnos flapped one of his gesticulating hands to dismiss them. “Oh, hush, you all know it’s true! Anyways, back to dear Icarus. I can imagine he’d get hung up on little arguments, he’s got some of the worst nightmares out there, and I didn’t start dealing them till _after_ he died! How about that? Being in Asphodel really does a number on him, death by burning and then the ocean and all that…”

“One of the worst cases of torment that exists for an innocent, I can imagine.” Zagreus let out a long sigh and gazed up the length of the grand hall, the judgement hall, and at the drifting shades around them. He turned back to Hypnos. “You get the first impressions when the shades arrive here. Do you think Icarus deserves his sentence?”

Hypnos tilted his head, hands settling finally in his lap. A few loose curls fell over his pale, furrowed brow. “Well… Come to think of it, not really. I never really wonder what happens after they leave, I just sometimes pop in to say hello if they’ve bothered to sleep. I don’t think about sentencing at all. I can imagine a lot are unfair, in their own weird, twisty contract ways!”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, mate, at least in this case. Thanks for your time.”

“Of course, you know I’m always happy to talk to you! Try and get things worked out for little Icarus there, okay? Tell him I say hi, if he remembers me!” Hypnos waved enthusiastically as Zagreus headed towards the west hall, then resumed a cheerful greeting of shades before inevitably dozing off in mere moments.

Achilles perked up slightly where he stood when the Prince approached, stern expression softening at the sight of his ward. “There, lad. I heard you ask Hypnos about someone by the name of Icarus?”

“I did.” Zagreus trotted forward so they may speak more closely, fiery feet padding lightly on the ground. “Did you happen to know of him, sir? I believe he lived during Theseus’ time.”

“Aye, his lesson was one well taught. Though, warning soldiers of hubris only goes so far in times of war. I acknowledge that I may have been one of the most remiss in heeding that tale.” Achilles pursed his lips in a thin line, a grimace of thought and regret plaguing his fine features. “But I hear you have made acquaintance with Icarus himself now, is that right?”

The Prince frowned, shuffling his feet slightly and curiously regarding his teacher. But, that contemplation of Achilles’ own tragic past could be pondered another time. Now, he had to account for his actions. “Yes, I have… He actually, erm, warned me. Against going ahead when I was in ill condition. Got into a bit of a spat over it, actually, and I said some cruel things.”

“Ah. I see. And here you are?”

“Right. I haven’t seen Icarus around, and I’ll admit right away that it has been challenging without him. But I can’t exactly go crawling back with little else than an apology, can I? I feel like I’ve done exactly to him what he regrets doing… betraying some forewarning and then dying for it. Rather inconsiderate of me, really.”

Achilles made a tight noise then, something between a scoff and a choke, and his eyes instantly turned to focus on one of the ornate pots to the north end of the hall. “I understand, certainly. It’s… never a good feeling to have suffered something like that, on either end, I can imagine.” He spoke more quietly, thoughts and memories of life threatening to sweep him away as they so often did, before he turned back to his patient ward. “Now, what do you intend to do, lad?”

“Just… a bit of research, is all. See what I can do to help.”

With naught more than a brief farewell, Zagreus was off again, quietly slipping into the Administrative Chamber. Met with the scrawls of a dozen quills and the soft groans of the working shades, their focus disturbed, the Prince waved an awkward hello before opening the closest filing drawer. The scrolls inside were neatly packed, but Zagreus knew that the shelf, seeming finite, extended on forever into the depths of parchment.

Luckily, his time working here had taught a trick or two. It was really quite simple, the organization of the whole thing a product of his father’s power and optimized for efficiency. He stuffed his hand into the drawer, fumbled about for a moment or two before seizing one of the scrolls and pulling it free when satisfied.

The thing, once unfurled, held a registered shade’s name at the top. _Daedalus_. Subheading. _The Craftsman._

Zagreus scanned the document, letting it drop down by his feet and curl away like some superfluous piece of drapery. His eyes wandered over the _Notable Deeds_ columns, the _Trials and Tribulations_ columns, the others that followed… Finally, reaching the _Sentencing_ portion of the lengthy report. And even here, there were more than a few listed to get through.

Zagreus’ forehead ached with concentration as he squinted through the formal writing, the language devised only for contracts to so explicitly state their purpose and yet make utterly no sense at first glance. A number of rereads finally satisfied his understanding of the few sentences in question, though. Something like… _All mimicked work shall hence be flawed due to an inability to truly pass on a legacy; be this in the form of apprentices, teachings, talent or repetition and imitation._

But there was no direct footnote dictating that Daedalus never see his son; at least, Icarus was not mentioned by name. So, a binding must exist more loosely under the apprenticeship clause over the fine print, surely?

Zagreus huffed, drawing the attention of nearby shades who shot him unseemly glares. A quick apology later and the Prince was thrusting his free hand deep within the shelf again, fishing for a second document without bothering to restock the first. It _had_ to be in here somewhere.

 _Aha!_ Pulling free the second scroll, Zagreus unfurled this one to check the neat labelling at the top. _Icarus. The Craftsman’s Son; Unfortunate Mortal Legend._ The content of this scroll was deeper in the start, accomplishments few and far in between, often paired or noted to have been in conjunction with his father. At last, holding both scrolls in his hands, Zagreus matched the sentencing. Once again, squinting to decipher it all.

_Permanent inability to appease shame due to wasted potential. Permanent inability to master any craft. Permanent inability to convene with The Master Craftsman, Daedalus, to resume apprenticeship._

“There’s the loophole, right?” Zagreus muttered, ignoring the looks of the shades. As long as Icarus and Daedalus attempt to be father and son rather than master and apprentice, then there should be nothing of binding contract to keep them apart!

And yet…

The Prince reflected on his own life. He was the apprentice to Achilles, a great master of martial art. That could be compared to how Icarus studied dutifully under his father, of course. But, despite all the mentorship and nurturing, Achilles was not Zagreus’ father. Hades was. Even a poor excuse for a parent, the Lord of the Underworld was still Zagreus’ one and only blood father; as a child, Zagreus had not sought skill from the man, but instead affection, patterns of behavior. The relationship between father and son, master and apprentice, was destined to be different from the start. At least as far as the Prince considered.

It would all depend on what each person was willing to change and do for the other, then; relationships, especially those with family, were always a give and take. Zagreus, knowing this with perceived wisdom, only wished he had the communication skills to help his own situation.

But work had to be done on his father’s end, too. Lots of it.

Zagreus rolled up the scrolls with a thoughtful frown before stowing them back safely in the bottomless shelf. Next time, he would have to ask Icarus some questions; what it was like in life, what he would be willing to say in order to repair a semblance of what was lost for so long. Surely then, some of the information the Prince had come about could be of some use.

There was hope for the lonely shade, wasn’t there? Something to look forward to?

“Achilles, sir?” Zagreus said when he emerged from the chamber. Once more, Achilles’ full attention returned to him.

“Yes, lad?”

“I… wanted to say thank you. For being so patient with me, and correcting me – guiding me – in a way that teaches, rather than judges. It means more than you know.”

Achilles blinked, lips parting slightly in flattered surprise. “I… I do my best. You are welcome.”

Zagreus left, still thinking and recognizing more and more the similarities he had to young Icarus. He understood perfectly the dynamic of admiration over respect; it was one thing to listen to someone, to take their advice because they have earned the respect and attention, and another entirely to constantly be coerced into doing what one is told based solely on superiority. There was a learning, a balance, that Zagreus wondered if he’d missed out on with his father, as well as the unfortunate shade and his own.

Before returning through his room to the courtyard and beyond, Zagreus picked up a nectar from the broker in the lounge; a peace offering, an apology to propose the Prince’s hesitant solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!!
> 
> Follow me on social media! Twitter @thirthfloor ; Tumblr @ziggyzagreus !!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!!
> 
> Feedback would be super appreciated!! This is an ongoing drabble project of mine both here and over on Tumblr - I've had Icarus brainworms ever since I played Hades and found out he wasn't in the game, but since I am not an artist, I have to resort to just writing a series of drabbles and hoping people pick up on it!!!
> 
> Give me ideas for future interactions/headcanons/Icarus drabbles!


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